


Rainbow in the Dark

by ccmoore



Category: Real Person Fiction, Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angry brother, Blind Character, F/M, Friendship/Love, Love Story, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccmoore/pseuds/ccmoore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellie Jacobs has been blind for nearly 10 years. Under the watchful eye of her brother, she has lived a sheltered and controlled life. What happens when she meets Tom Hiddleston? Read and find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out my story! Just to clarify, I am not blind, but this story has been in my brain for weeks now and I finally decided to get it out. I have been doing research, but if some things just seem a little off, please forgive me! It is, after all, just a story, not a true-to-life work. 
> 
> Once again, thank you! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments :)

_Tom_

I don’t know how I let my mates talk me into agreeing to do the stuff we do, especially since it seems to occur time after time. The latest idea was to let my best mate, Rory, borrow my car to impress a girl. A girl he had just met. Normally, I wouldn’t be so concerned, but seeing as how I left my wallet in the center console of the car and I am now deserted in a part of London I hardly visit, I felt my blood pressure rise. 

Rory promised he would be back to pick me up in an hour, which was about how much time he estimated it would take for him to impress the girl, have a quick snog and return. That was nearly two hours ago, and I am still waiting in the spot where I was dropped off. I picked up my mobile and called his number for the fifth time. Once again, it went to voicemail.

“Listen, you arse,” I huffed out. “I’m tired of waiting. Obviously she doesn’t want to snog. So come get me.” I looked around the block once again, trying to find my bearings. The weather was shifting from cool to cold, signifying that winter was upon us. “I’ll be at the pub on the corner. You better get here.”

I got up from the tiny bench I sat on and hurried across the one-way street to Harry’s Pub, which read “arry’s Pub” since the “H” in the sign shorted out. I opened the door and walked inside, almost stepping back into time. The walls were paneled in a dark wood, with dark booths lining the walls and dark upholstered chairs surrounding a handful of tables. The bar was a rich color wood covered in laminate with old pictures of the place. 

“What’ll it be, mate?” the bartender asked me. I just ordered a Guinness. The bartender walked over to the center of the bar and took a cup from below, filling it with the rich dark liquid. “Ellie, you need a top off?”

“No, I’m fine,” my head followed the trail of the soft feminine voice I heard in response. My eyes widened at what I found: a young woman, probably in her twenties, with dark chestnut brown hair and delicate features. I know it’s rude to stare, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. 

The bartender interrupted me from my transfixion, setting my beer in front of me. “That’s four quid.”

“I don’t have my wallet on me at the moment,” I tried to explain my awkward situation. “My mate should be here shortly with it.”

“Hey, buddy, I don’t know you,” the man retorted, about to take away the drink when Ellie spoke up.

“Harry, it’s fine,” she laughed, almost like she was amused. “Put it on my tab.”

The man gave me a glare before walking away. I tried to match his stare, but decided it wasn’t worth my time. Instead, I looked over to my rescuer, for sake of a better word. “Thanks, it’s been a rather strange day.”

“No problem. We’ve all been there,” she said, extending her hand to me. “I locked myself out of my apartment today. So I’m waiting for my sister-in-law to get home at 4 so she can let me in. I’m Ellie.”

I reached across the three stools between us and gently took her hand into mine. Her skin was warm and soft, a stark contrast from mine. “I’m Tom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tom,” she offered. I took the seat next to her and took a sip from my drink. 

“You’re American?” I noted, her soft voice giving way to her slight Southern accent. 

“I am. Very perceptive,” she laughed, which sounded like music to my ears. “I’ve been in London for about five years now, so the thick of my accent is gone. But it comes back when I visit home or family comes my way.”

As Ellie spoke, I couldn’t help but get lost in her eyes. They were a pale blue, like the sky on a crystal clear day. I did note her left eye color was a bit darker blue than the right. I’m sure I was making her uncomfortable with my staring, but she didn’t seem to take notice. 

“So tell me Ellie, how did you get to London?”

She told me about moving to England with her brother, Scott, five years ago, after he met his wife, a writer living in Texas. After they fell in love, Scott followed his then girlfriend back home to London, with Ellie coming with. 

“Why didn’t you want to stay in Texas?” I asked. 

She hesitated before answering, making sure to put a smile on her face. Obviously it wasn’t a happy memory. “My parents died almost ten years ago. There really weren’t any happy memories keeping me there.”

“God, I’m so sorry. Truly.” I can’t imagine having gone through something so horrible.

“I grieved for a while, but I had to move on,” she said before taking a final sip of her drink. “I figured wallowing in my sadness wouldn’t change anything. And that’s not what my parents would have wanted. So I went out, bought a new dress and got on with my life.”

I laughed. She was really funny. “That’s a great outlook on life, Ellie.”

She flashed a brilliant smile, as radiant as the sun. “What do you do, Tom?”

I was kind of taken back. I wasn’t the most famous person in the world, but my face was getting out in the entertainment world more. Maybe she was just being polite. “I’m an actor, actually.”

“Really?” she sat up a little bit straighter in her seat. “Anything I may have seen you in?”

“Marvel films — The Avengers, Thor?” Ellie shook her head, saying she didn’t get into superhero-type films. “Okay, War Horse? Midnight in Paris? I did some television mini-series as well, some for BBC.”

She shook her head. “I don’t really watch television. I’m sorry.”

“No, no it’s fine,” I admitted. “It’s actually rather refreshing to talk to someone who isn’t familiar with my work.” 

Ellie asked me a little bit more about my career, which was becoming a more frequent conversation piece. I told her a little bit about the films I just completed and what was to come, including my upcoming run of Coriolanus at the Donmar. 

“Being on stage would be terrifying,” she said. “You’re so brave.”

“Acting is a rush, but the stage is my first love. It’s a huge part of my life.”

I lost track of time. Ellie and I talked for what felt like hours. I had forgotten about Rory and the reason why I was at the bar. No one or thing seemed important to me. I just wanted to keep talking to Ellie. 

“El, it’s past four,” the bartender interrupted our conversation. Shooting me a similar look he gave earlier. “Rachael should be home.”

She gasped and reached for her purse on the barstool next to her and began fishing for something inside. “Tom, it was wonderful to meet you. I’m sorry that I have to be going.”

“Me too,” I answered; taking a breath that I hoped would give me the confidence I needed. “Ellie, would you like to go to dinner tomorrow night?” 

“I would love that,” she smiled. “How about at The Green Room, it’s a Italian restaurant near Hyde Park. I work nearby, so we could meet for dinner, say around six?”

“I can’t wait,” I said, probably more excitedly than I should have. 

Ellie got down from her stool, using the bar as her handle. The bar tender came over to her, taking her arm into his. “Need any help getting home, El?”

“No, thanks, Harry,” she said. She took out a thin piece of white plastic, folded into fourths. She unfolded each piece and sapped them into place before taking the fully extended cane into her right hand. My eyes widened at the activity. 

_Oh my god. She’s blind._

“See you tomorrow, Tom.” Ellie said, giving me a wave and walking out the door, which Harry held open for her, moving the cane back and forth in her path. 

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I whispered, doubting she even heard me.


	2. Tickled Pink

_Ellie_

I took the steps above the bar with a little more bounce than I normally did. I knew them by heart, having climbed them two to three times a day, so I didn’t need my cane to get me up them. And since my and my brother’s apartments were the only two up there, I knew no one would be coming down. It was in the winter I had to be careful, since ice would sometimes line the metal fire escape steps. But usually Scott and Rachael made sure they were clear. 

After climbing the steps and opening the door to a long hallway, I went to the first door on my left, counting my steps. After the eleventh step, I knew I was at the front door of my brother’s apartment. I tapped my knuckles on the door before letting myself in, already knowing Rachael was inside since I heard her familiar piano music she wrote to. 

“It’s just me,” I called.

“Hey!” I heard my sister-in-law call from her study in her unique British accent. Since my brother still had a stronger Texan accent than I, it brushed off on Rachael, giving her a strange, blended sound. It was unique, to say the least, but she played with it so well. 

Rachael bounded down the hall and enveloped me in a hug. She had been away on a six-week book tour across Europe and Asia. She would be leaving for the States in a couple of weeks and since it was time for a two-week break at work, I would be going with her. I was very excited, but Rachel was over the moon. “I missed you so much!”

After turning down the music, she pulled me over to the couch with her. “Tell me about your trip,” I said, setting my cane and purse on the ground. Rachael told me everything about her trip — the bookstores, libraries and cafés where she had signings, the people she met and the food she had (she was a foodie, too!). Rachael’s book, _The Edge of Never_ , was already soaring high on bestseller lists across the world. She debuted number one in the States, Europe and in Japan. Her first print edition was at 750,000 in thirty some languages. And it was only her second book. 

“I can’t wait to take you back to the States with me,” Rachael said, getting up and fixing some tea. I could smell the herbs she poured from her favorite tin, clinking some utensils and cups together. “It will be so great to have a girls trip.”

“Me, too,” I told her. “I’m really excited.”

“So what have you been up to?”

“Just the same,” I told her with a smile. I live a very structured life, which we often joked about. “The kids’ art show is coming up. They are all very excited.”

“I can’t wait to see what they have all been working on,” she said. “I’m sure it will be nothing but fabulous. They have a wonderful teacher.”

We talked a little bit more about what the kids I teach have been working on before I asked her something that had been on my mind. “Do you think you could help me pick out an outfit?”

“Of course,” Rachael laughed. “You do a really good job by yourself, though.”

“Well, I have a date.”

“Ellie! A date!” I could feel Rachael leap up from the couch in excitement. “This is great news!”

I stood up with her, trying to get her to quiet down. “I don’t want Scott to know. Not yet. This could just be a one-date thing, so I don’t want to worry him over nothing.”

“No, I totally agree,” Rachael lowered her voice and sat us back down on the couch. “Ellie, this is fantastic. I can’t even remember the last time you went on a date.”

“It was a blind date four years ago. He kept making jokes about how hilarious his blind date was truly blind.”

Rachael snickered and I narrowed my eyes at her. “You have to admit, it’s pretty funny.” I soon joined in on the laughter. It was kind of funny. 

Rachael gave me the spare key to my apartment and promised to come over later to help me pick out my clothes for the date. I gently closed the door behind me and took my normal four steps to my apartment. I ran my left and down the face of the door, finding the knob and the deadbolt lock, just above the handle. I felt for the lock, finding it with my index finger, and slid my spare key in. Once I was in, I shut and locked the door and put the spare key on the table beside the door, reminding myself to have Rachael take it back with her when she came over later. 

Any normal sister would hate the fact that her brother was less than ten feet away, but I didn’t mind. It was mainly out of necessity, but we were also close ever since our parents’ death. I couldn’t function without him and he without I. 

Scott was in commercial real estate, mainly corporate and industrial. During our first two years in London, we lived in Rachael’s flat south of town. It was hard for me to get around in her large apartment complex and commute across town, and none of us wanted me to live alone. Then Scott found this abandoned building. It used to be a small market with four apartments up above. Scott bought the whole building for $125,000 — the deal of the century. He converted the two apartments on the left side of the building for he and Rachael while the apartment on the right and in the back was mine. The downstairs was renovated, which Harry and his wife, Sheila, owned and operated as their pub. Scott kept their rent low, just charging enough to cover electricity and heat for the pub, and Harry returned the favor by keeping an eye on me. Harry and his wife lived in the apartment next to me, which was slightly smaller than mine. 

Since I didn’t cook — mainly because some people didn’t trust me to cook alone, not that I was terrible at it — I didn’t have a kitchen. Apart from a microwave and a mini-fridge, there really was no need for a stove and huge refrigerator. I would either eat at Scott and Rachael’s, the pub, with Harry or Sheila or order out. The space I saved from the kitchen was used for my art studio, where I displayed and worked on my pieces. Across from the studio was my bedroom and bathroom and off of that was my living room and library, which was modest compared to London apartments. My apartment was sparsely furnished with furniture, as I needed to get around with ease in my own home. The important part was that it felt like home. I felt safe. 

I took off my jacket, hanging it on the free peg by the door, along with my cane on a separate hook. I groped along the wall for my keys, chastising myself when I felt the familiar edges and peaks of the keys still on the hook. I can’t believe I left them here the whole time. So unlike me. 

There was a knock on my door, followed by Rachael’s voice and the distinct smell of pizza. I unlocked the door and let her in, smiling at the familiar scent of pepperoni. 

“Scott called and said his meeting is running late,” she said. “So I ordered us pizza. Now tell me more about this date!”

As we ate two slices of pizza each, I told her all about Tom: his smell, the tone of his voice, the way his laugh tickled my ears and how he made me feel. “I had this peaceful feeling when he was near me. He felt like….well, he felt like home.”

“Ellie, I have never heard you speak of anyone like this,” she said over a mouthful of pizza. Normally Rachael was a very polite, neat woman. Either she was really hungry or shocked over my news. “What does he do?”

“He’s an actor.”

“An actor? Oh god, Scott’s going to love that,” Rachael laughed, probably rolling her eyes, too. “What’s his last name?”

I racked my brain. I can’t recall him telling me. “I don’t think he said. But he said he was in the Thor and Avenger movies. And War Horse, I believe it was called.”

“Tom? As in Tom Hiddleston?” Rachael asked me. “He plays Loki in those movies. He’s a fantastic actor. He was in Wallander, we used to watch that. He played Magnus.”

While I couldn’t watch the show, I did listen to it, painting my own pictures of the characters and actors portraying them. “Oh. Well that’s interesting.”

“Does he know you’re blind?”

“Uh, not really,” I smiled at the memory. “I mean, yes. Only because he saw me whip out my cane. I never verbally told him.”

“You just love to do that,” Rachel flicked my shoulder. “No wonder you scare off men.”

I simply shrugged my shoulders and laughed. 

“Come on, let’s pick out your outfit,” Rachael pulled me up and followed me to my room. It was an unspoken rule that in my house, no one helped me get around. While I may not have been in control of my life at work or on the outside, I had it when I was in my home. 

I opened my closed door and felt along the fabrics. Rachel helped me when I first moved in. We separated my clothes into colors, putting up large plastic dividers so I would know when that section ended. The dividers had Braille imprinted on them, letting me know what the colors were. My accessories, like my sweaters and cardigans were done in similar fashion, folded and labeled in my dresser drawers. My jewelry hung on the opposite wall, with my nice items resting in my jewelry box. I tended to stick with my favorite pieces, since they went with everything, or otherwise asked for help when pairing jewelry and clothing together. I was glad Rachael was back, because I asked Scott for help last week and it was an interesting experience, to say the least. 

“I think you should wear this jade dress,” Rachael said.

I shook my head, knowing exactly which one she was talking about. “No, I will be working late that night, so it needs to be something that I can wear to work and then straight to dinner.”

“Okay,” Rachael put the dress back in its order and hummed, softly taping her finger on her lips. “Ah ha! This gray dress.”

She put it in my hands and I felt it with my thumbs. It was a tweed dress I bought for an art show, where it was rumored the Queen of England would be attending. While she didn’t attend, someone from her staff did and they purchased a number of paintings. None of mine, but it was still thrilling to witness something like that happen. 

“I will pair it with this cream blazer and heels,” Rachael continued to talk, placing more items in my awaiting arms. I have just the necklace and bracelet to go with this. And this would match your gray purse perfectly!”

As Rachael talked and went to retrieve her jewelry, I imagined me wearing the outfit. I wondered how I would look. The last image I have of myself is at seventeen, when I had my accident. The image of me with mousey brown hair, at an awkward height and with a flat chest lingered in my mind. I know I didn’t look like that now, Scott even insisted, but that image would always linger with me since it was my last. 

“You’re going to be a knock out,” Rachael offered, walking into the room, placing all of my items on the empty chair next to my dresser. She couldn’t possibly know what I was thinking, but she knew just what to say. “Tom Hiddleston won’t know what hit him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fabulous outfit! http://www.pinterest.com/pin/332492384961425403/


	3. Once in a Blue Moon

_Tom_

I went through multiple stages the following day, with the two dominant ones being shock and awe. Ellie carried on like a normal, seeing person, yet she couldn’t. I was shocked that she never led on that she was blind, but in amazement that she never let her disadvantage get in her way. 

Rory finally picked me up shortly after Ellie left, apologizing only once. I made him pay for my and Ellie’s drinks, only to find that Ellie’s tab was non-existent. Her drinks are always on the house. Even though I insisted on paying Harry what I owed, he refused the money, telling me to be gentle with Ellie. 

“You found yourself a bird, eh?” Rory nudged me as I took my keys from him. 

“Why do you talk like that?” I asked, annoyed. I already felt protective of Ellie given her circumstances. “She’s a beautiful woman. Who just happens to be blind.”

Rory dissolved into a fit of laughs. If he had been standing, I think he would have fallen to the ground and rolled around. I let him get it out of his system before I re-started the conversation.

“Let me get this straight,” he started. “The girl you met in the bar is blind. And you didn’t know until she left?” I nodded my head. “Man, Hiddleston. You have to get a blind woman to go out with you, that’s how ugly you are.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. I missed this constant ribbing and mocking when I was on the movie sets and traveling around the world. “Yeah, yeah.”

“It’s going to be weird, though, mate,” Rory continued. “She can’t see you, so she can’t judge you based on your looks, which is what woman do on the first date. She’s going straight to your heart, soul and mind. This may be the first date, but when it comes to your conversation, it’s more like your fifth.” 

In some weird, twisted way, Rory had a point. That made me kind of nervous. “I don’t care. There’s something about her that I like. I have to find out what.”

The next day I began my first day of rehearsals for Coriolanus. I didn’t know my first day would be so demanding, but Josie, the director, liked to jump in feet first. Today, Hadley Fraser and I blocked out some of our fight sequences, giving both of us a work out. My day ended with me drenched in sweat and needing a shower. I admit, my busy day did keep my mind off of Ellie and what I would say on our date tonight. 

“Damn, Rory, you got in my head,” I muttered to no one as I gathered my items and began my walk home. It was a nice fall day, so I decided to walk to my flat instead of taking the tube. Plus, I needed the cool air to calm down and think. 

My dreams last night were filled with Ellie, replaying our conversation of yesterday afternoon and adding to it. I hoped our conversation would be just as effortless as it was last night. 

My long legs carried me home, giving me just enough time to shower and change and make my way back to the heart of London. I took a taxi this time, arriving to The Green Room ten minutes before our agreed upon time. The hostess took my name, saying it would be about 15 minutes for a table. Suddenly, I felt so stupid I didn’t make a reservation. 

I paced back and forth waiting, my nerves building with each step I took. Every so often, I would glance at the door, waiting for Ellie to make her way through the set of double doors. After twelve minutes of pacing, I saw her figure through the glass windows, her now familiar cane tapping the ground in front of her. A gentleman in front of her opened the door and she thanked him with a smile. Knowing she couldn’t see me, I walked up to her and announced myself before touching her hand.

“Ellie, hi,” I said, unsure of how to fully address myself. Her face lit up and the smile on her face grew. She placed her other hand over mine, the pads of her fingers tracing my knuckles. 

“Tom, it’s so good to see you,” she said with a laugh. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“You, too,” I said. The hostess came over to where we were, letting us know our table was ready. Perfect timing. I took Ellie’s hand and tucked it under my arm, taking the both of us to the table. Once she was seated in her chair, I took mine across from her and watched her put her cane away. 

“I’m glad you wanted to go out to dinner,” I nervously said, not sure if I should address the blind thing right away. I rubbed the back of my head, already feeling beads of sweat appear. “I’ve never done this. I mean, I don’t normally pick up girls in bars.”

Ellie just laughed in her sweet way. “I don’t either.” That made me smile, automatically putting me at ease. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was blind. I’ve just found in that past that freaks guys out.”

“I admit I was freaked out, but I really enjoyed our afternoon together.” A waiter came over to take our drink orders, so I took the opportunity to order a bottle of wine. I normally didn’t like to drink on the first date, but seeing as we met in a bar… “So, are there any other hidden secrets or talents I should know about?”

“Hm…I won a pie eating contest when I was twelve. And I was spelling bee champion when I was eight,” she spoke, causing me to laugh. “I think that’s it. And you?”

“I was president of the debate team in school.”

“That’s it? No acting awards?”

“Well, a few,” I told her. Honestly, I didn’t go out of my way to talk about such things. “They’re nothing of great importance.”

“I beg to differ,” Ellie grabbed her glass of wine that was placed in front of her and brought it to her lips. I watched as she took a small sip, tasting the yellowish liquid and set the glass back in its original spot, all with great ease. “So, tell me, what did you do today?”

I told Ellie about my day, just as if we were some ordinary couple that had been dating for years. I talked about blocking the fight scenes with Hadley, including the bruise I received from a prop, and running over some lines with the main set of characters in Coriolanus.

“You should rub coconut oil on it,” she told me. I gave a protesting sound, which only caused Ellie to insist more. “I’m serious! My grandmother swears by it. She used to put that on my brother and me all the time. Even a year after I lost my sight, she still put that on my face.”

“You’re kidding,” I shook my head.

“Obviously it didn’t work. And because of it, I hate the smell of coconut.”

“Then you wouldn’t like to know that tonight’s special is coconut shrimp?” Both Ellie and I erupted in laughter, which resulted in some curious glances from patrons seated in the surrounding table. I gave my apology and got back to our conversation.

Our banter continued back and forth the entire night. After we ordered our meals — the chicken marsala (with French fries instead of a baked potato, since it was easier to eat) for Ellie and a steak for myself (what? I was starving after my intense workout) — Ellie wanted to know more about Coriolanus and why I wanted to take the role.

“I’ve always been intrigued by Coriolanus and why he acted the way he did. What made him that way? It’s been a treat to breathe life into this role.”

Ellie just stared at me with a mesmerized look on her face, a look I was familiar with since I had been giving the same one to her all night. “I love to hear you talk about your passion, Tom.”

“What is yours? We’ve talked the whole night about me. I want to know more about you.”

“Well, I’m a part-time art teacher at Kensington Primary School as well as at the school for the blind just up the block. I teach art there about three times a week, but sometimes I help out where ever they need it.”

“Art?”

Ellie laughed. “I know what you’re thinking, how can a blind person teach art? It’s not so much what the kids are drawing, but how they can channel their emotions into it and what that medium can do for them and for the world.”

“That’s beautiful,” I said. “I imagine the kids love you.”

“They do. Or at least they tell me they do,” she laughed. “We’re having an art show in a couple of weeks at the school. You should come.”

“I would love that.”

Ellie told me more about how she got into her work. After her parents were killed, Ellie began seeing a therapist, who told her to work through her pain by doing what she loved, drawing. Even though she couldn’t see, her emotions were still going into her work. After graduating valedictorian from high school, she went to the University of Texas where she double majored in art and developmental and child psychology, all while teaching herself Braille. While this was her first year teaching at Kensington, she had been volunteering at the school for the blind since she first moved here.

“Ellie, that’s quite amazing,” I told her. Truth be told, she intimidated me. She knew exactly what she wanted to do in life and she did it, not letting anything get in her way. 

“Life isn’t going to give anyone an easy ride,” she said. “My grandmother used to tell me that when I was little. I never understood it until the accident.”

I was about to ask Ellie another question when our waiter came over to us, apologizing that the restaurant was closing. We had been at our table for nearly four hours talking, but it only felt like minutes. I quickly paid the bill and helped Ellie up from her chair, taking her hand in mine. 

“It’s such a nice night,” she said. “Who knows how much longer we will have this decent weather.”

“Yeah, hard to say,” I said. I didn’t really want to end our night and I think Ellie felt the same way, so I had to think of something quick. “How about we enjoy the night? Can I walk you home?”

“That would be nice,” she was about to fish out her cane from her purse when I asked her for the walk. She gently put it back in her purse, wrapping her hands around my arm and leaning into my body. 

I could get used to this.


	4. Black Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment on your way out, if you can! :)

_Ellie_

Instead of walking right to my apartment, Tom and I walked through part of Hyde Park before making our way to my neighborhood. On the way home, we passed Kensington Primary School, so I told Tom a little bit more about the kids. The conversation then turned to my parents’ accident and how I lost my sight. 

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand,” Tom quickly said after he asked me.

“No, I don’t mind,” I said. “Even though the accident happened almost ten years ago, it still helps me to talk about it, as weird as that may be.”

I started telling Tom about the evening of the accident. It was October 28, 2004. My high school football team was playing in the state game against the three-time high school football champions. My school had never made it that far before, so my entire town practically turned up in Houston for the match. And seeing as football was the state religion of Texas, it was a packed stadium.

Scott, who was attending college in Louisiana, met us for the game, since three of our cousins were playing the game and I was a cheerleader on the squad. While we didn’t win the game — it was close, though, 32-30 — we were still proud of our work. As we got ready to leave the game, Scott said he was going celebrate with some friends, so he would drive separate. My mom — who has always been big into family — tried to convince Scott to come home with us since he didn’t have class Monday, but he relented saying he hadn’t seen his friends since last summer. 

We parted ways shortly after, not knowing it would be the last time our family would be normal. We weren’t even ten miles outside of Houston when the accident happened. A businesses man driving from L.A. crashed into us head on, the result of falling asleep at the wheel. My mom died instantly in the crash and my dad was in coma for six days before we took him off life support. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see my dad before he died. I didn’t get to see anything. The accident took my sight from me. 

Since it was late at night, I was laying down in the back seat trying to sleep — without a seat belt on. I was thrown from the car and sustained massive injuries to my head and upper body. Because of the trauma, there was increased pressure on my skull, which damaged my optic nerves by cutting off blood circulation.

“My right eye got a lot of the damage, which is why it’s a different color — or so I’m told,” I told Tom, who remained perfectly silent on the park bench we shared. “But the occipital cortex is damaged, so I can’t see anything, even though my left eye didn’t receive much damage.”

I told Tom about the recovery process — being in the hospital for a month, trying to learn how to live as a blind person, living with my grandmother and taking off the last semester of my junior year of high school and Scott quitting college to be with me.

“I learned Braille over the summer through a school for the blind a few towns over. Then I finished my junior year of high that summer in three weeks,” I chuckled at the memory. “I attempted to do a chemistry project in the kitchen. I nearly set my grandmother’s house on fire.”

After much insisting, Scott went back to school to finish his businesses degree, taking most of his classes online so he could help me. He graduated a year early. Shortly after met Rachael.

“Ellie, I’m so sorry,” Tom ran his hand up and down my back. Somewhere during my story, his left arm snaked around my shoulders and his right hand held onto mine. It was nice to sit like this, even if I was recalling my most painful memory. “What about Scott?”

“Scott was a mess,” I said. “He still doesn’t like to talk about it. He feels really guilty for not being there. I sometimes think he thinks he should have been in the car with us, in the bed next to me at the hospital.”

“And how were you after the accident?”

“I was angry for years, wondering why this happened to me and what I could have done to change it, but then, overtime, I started to accept my new life. I mean, it could have ended worse. I could have died, too,” I hesitated, thinking of my parents. Generally speaking, Scott and I talked about them in the present, like they were still in our three-story home in Texas. “I’ve learned you get out of life what you make of it, so I’m not going to waste my time feeling sorry for myself. I’m going to keep on living and chasing life.”

“Besides,” I added. “I met some great friends at the hospital and through the school for the blind and I found my calling there. I can’t be mad at that.”

“Ellie, I think you should write a book,” Tom chuckled, moving his thumb over my knuckles. “You’re so positive about a negative experience. More people need to be like that.”

“You’re pretty positive, too, Tom,” I said. “And passionate. I love that.”

We sat on the bench for another hour, not really talking, but just being with each other. We spoke a little bit here and there about the accident, our days and what we were doing this weekend before we decided to call it a night.

“Ellie, could I see you again?” Tom asked as we stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the apartments. “I’ve really enjoyed our night.”

“I have too,” I said just above a whisper, somewhat shocked that I was able to get a second date with a guy. That hadn’t happened in a number of years. “I would love to see you again.”

I could tell that wasn’t how Tom wanted to end our night, call it a sixth sense — or my “fifth sense,” since I am down one. I had a feeling Tom wanted to kiss me, but he wasn’t sure how to approach it. I decided to fix that. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a date,” I laughed. “Is this the part where we kiss? You may have to help me out with that, I can’t read your body language.”

Tom gave a relieved laugh and tightened his hold on my arms. “I guess you can tell I’m nervous. You scare me.”

“I scare you?”

“Yes, you do,” he let go of my hand and started pacing around me. “You know your place in life. You know exactly what you want to get out of it. You’re in a different place than me, and that’s scary.”

“Not true,” I reached for his hand, causing him to stop his movement and stand in front of me. “There’s one thing I still want in my life.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“You.” I said as simply as I could, without coming off too desperate. I really wanted to kiss Tom. Was I that obvious? I stood up on my tiptoes and leaned into Tom, hoping he would do the rest. And I wasn’t let down. 

Tom’s lips captured mine in a sweet, innocent kiss. It was gentle and delicate, his thin, yet smooth, lips taking control of the kiss. His hand soon cupped my face, holding me to him. I broke away from the kiss, only to have Tom place another one on my lips. And another. It was beautiful. 

Suddenly, the blackest memory of my life got a little bit brighter.


	5. Green Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update! To make up for it, this chapter is a long one! :) 
> 
> Please leave some feedback; I'd appreciate it!

_Tom_

In the two weeks since Ellie and I had our first date, we talked every night, went on four more dinner dates and five lunch dates. We talked about everything and anything; our conversations usually lasted for hours. 

Rehearsals for Coriolanus were starting to become more grueling and last longer. Last night’s rehearsal went until eight at night, giving me just enough time to grab some dinner, call Ellie and get a full night’s sleep. Tonight would be different. Tonight was all about Ellie and her students. 

Tonight was the art show at the school for the blind. From what Ellie told me, a lot of preparation went into the show, which made the kids very excited. On my way to the school, I picked up a bouquet of tulips, since they are Ellie’s favorite.

I entered the school and was directed to the common area, just past the entrance. The good-sized room, which I’m sure served as a gym or large gathering hall, was transformed into a gallery. Paintings were hung from the ceiling, suspended by thin wires and clips while some were framed and hanging on the walls. There was also a table set up with smaller drawings and works of art in frames. Most of the paintings were done in water colors, but some were done in oils. 

I didn’t have to search long to find Ellie, since I heard her signature laugh first. I watched her from afar, talking with an adult and rubbing the back of a student, which I assume was that person’s son. Ellie looked beautiful, wearing a simple cobalt blue dress and cream cardigan. 

After the parent and child left, I took the opportunity to go to Ellie. Before I even opened my mouth, she smiled and reached for me, “hi, Tom.”

“How did you know it was me?” I said, pressing a kissing to the top of her head.

“I could smell your cologne,” she laughed and slid her hands into mine. “I’m so glad you could make it. I know your work has been very demanding.”

“Nothing would keep me from this,” I said, suddenly realizing I was holding the bouquet. “I have these for you. To remember the night.”

“Tulips! Tom, how sweet,” she placed a kiss on my cheek. “What color are they?”

“Pink.”

“How beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen pink tulips.” Suddenly I felt guilty for bringing them. Why even give them to her if she can’t see? “I can’t wait to take these home.”

“Ellie?” A voice interrupted us. We both turned around to an older woman, probably in her fifties or sixties, of a darker complexion. “Sorry to interrupt. We have some media here that would like to speak to you.”

“Oh, okay,” she turned to me. “I’ve never talked to media before.”

I chuckled. I haven’t been in that position for over a decade. “You’ll do great.”

The woman, who Ellie quickly introduced me to as Nora Gupta, headmistress of the school, lead Ellie over to the reporters, who were setting up their cameras and taking out their notepads. I watched from a distance, feeling a sense of pride for Ellie taking on a new challenge. It looked like her interview was going well, so I decided to walk around and look at some of the art. 

A lot of the watercolor pieces were from the younger students, while the oils were by older and more artsy students. Coming from blind students, one really wouldn’t have high expectations for the work, but the paintings were really good. Many of the younger kids painted simple things, like rainbows, the sun or even a few shapes, while the older kids had some scenes painted and even a few animals. 

Ellie soon found her way back over to me, looping her arm through mine. “I didn’t bring my cane tonight, mind if I use you?” 

“I don’t mind at all, darling,” I took the opportunity to place another kiss on her head, hugging her close to me. “The art is really great, Ellie. Your students should be so proud.”

“They are all so talented. Not every student is legally blind. Some just have slight vision disabilities, but they still need help in their day to day lives,” she said. 

As we talked about art, a young boy approached us. He couldn’t have been more than six. His shaggy blonde hair flopped around as he ran over here, his cane skimming the floor in front of him. 

“Jack, remember please, no running,” Ellie spoke, trying to sound as authoritative as she could.

“Aw, how’d you know it was me?” he whined, causing me to chuckle. 

“Because,” she bent down to his level, “I can always hear your shoes when you run.” She laughed and ran her hand through his hair, trying to push back his wavy blonde hair. “Jack, would you like to show my friend Tom your painting?”

“Yeah! Follow me!”

Ellie and I followed Jack over to the next table, where he proudly showed us a drawing of clouds and a sun on an 8x11 sheet of paper. The clouds weren’t exactly connected or done in a consistent manner, but there was something beautiful about the piece of work.

“What made you want to paint this?” I asked him.

“Because I like to paint! And my mom says she likes clouds.”

“A great answer,” I told him. “It’s fantastic.”

“Ellie, how do you know it’s fantastic when you can’t see it either?” Jack asked. 

“Well, that’s a good question,” Ellie picked up the painting and skimmed her finger tips over the paint. “Were you happy when you painted this?”

“Yes!”

“I can tell,” Ellie smiled. “You used a lot of paint and made your clouds very big, so I can tell you had a great time painting them. That’s what makes this fantastic.”

After I asked him a few more questions, Jack went to find his parents, who were just a few feet away. Most of the people were milling around toward the front, talking over the more intricate pieces. My eyes then noticed a large abstract painting with pastel colors, framed in mahogany. It looked like a perfect sunset with its rich colors at the bottom giving away to softer colors and light brush strokes. A masterpiece. 

“That one over there is really amazing,” I told Ellie. “The abstract. Who painted that?”

“Oh, that’s mine.”

“What?” I dragged Ellie over to the painting, deciding I needed a closer look. “Ellie, this is fantastic.”

“Thanks,” she shyly responded. “I painted that last month.”

“This is remarkable. It’s a masterpiece.”

“I wasn’t sure what to bring. I have some other pieces back at my apartment,” she paused, her grip tightening on my hand. “Would you like to see them? After the art show?”

“I would love to,” I automatically responded, not noticing the hint of trepidation in her voice until I gave my reply. 

Ellie was called away once again, briefly leaving me. I took the time to study her painting, noticing more detail of the brush strokes up close. How she could have painted this while blind is amazing, a true display of talent and passion.

I was at the show for another hour before it started to wind down. While I was getting tired, I enjoyed every minute with Ellie, who introduced me to friends, parents and students and co-workers. Every time she introduced me it was as “my friend Tom,” which I decided needed to change. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” Ellie asked me as I helped her slip on her lightweight pea coat. Once it was on, I took her hand into mine and escorted her out the door. 

“It was wonderful. You have many talented students.” We walked in silence for a few steps since I was unsure how to address what was on my mind. “Maybe this weekend we can go out to dinner and I can introduce you to some of my co-workers.”

“Yeah, I would like that.”

“Maybe I could introduce you as my girlfriend,” I said just above a whisper, not even sure she could hear me. 

Ellie stopped walking and turned to me, her eyes peering right through my soul, at least that’s what it felt like. “I would love that.” She stood on her tiptoes, reaching for a kiss, and I met her halfway. I could feel her smile against my lips, causing me to smile. 

We continued the short walk a few more blocks before reaching her apartment. Ellie told me one of the reasons why her brother bought the building for her to live in was since it was close to her work and she never had to cross any streets coming back from the school, which was usually at night.

“It sounds like he really looks after you,” I said, rubbing my finger over the soft skin of her knuckles.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Ellie led me up the steps of the building and down the hall to her apartment. I watched as she skimmed her index and middle finger of her right hand down the door, finding the lock and inserting her key into the slot. Once I stepped into her apartment, I knew it was hers. 

“Your place looks like you,” I told her. And it did — bright art pieces on the wall, which Ellie said she did, colorful fabrics and a multitude of textures. It also smelled like her. Her distinct smell of Freesia, honeysuckle and vanilla tickled my nose, automatically bringing a smile to my face and putting me at ease. 

Ellie gave me the tour, showing me her art pieces along the way. Her most recent pieces were on display towards the front of the house, while her older pieces were in the back. 

“This is my studio,” Ellie spoke as she faced me, her back pressed up against the closed door. “I don’t really let anyone in here.”

Instead of turning me away, Ellie took my hand, opened the door and led me in. It was a tiny room, probably a spare room or even large closet space. The windows were higher up on the wall, painted a pale yellow, and lacked curtains, which I’m sure allowed plenty of light to flood in. Blank canvases rested on one side of the wall while complete canvases lined the opposite wall. Some paintings were hanging up with others rested in a stack in the far corner of the room. An older looking table filled with paints and brushes was next to an easel, which had more brushes in a wooden tray. 

“Ellie, these are amazing,” I released her hand and walked around the room, touching the paintings and feeling the acrylic oils under my fingertips, imagining what Ellie felt as she painted. “Which medium do you prefer?”

“Oils and acrylics are easy for me to stop and start up with again, since I can feel where I left off, but I really love watercolors. That’s how I started and I love how the colors blend.”

My eye caught a watercolor painting behind her, different from all the others. This one was a portrait of a ballerina, striking a pose midair. As I studied the painting, I could see great detail in the ruffles of her tutu and texture of her hair. 

“When did you do this one? The one of the ballerina?”

Ellie gingerly took the painting from my hands and smiled at it, obviously reliving a memory. “This was the first one I did after the accident. It took me a whole year.” She ran her fingers along the face of the ballerina before responding. “It’s based off a photograph of my mom. It’s my favorite picture of her.”

As soon as she talked about her mother, a wide smile appeared on Ellie’s face. I loved seeing her face light up like that. “How long did she do ballet?” 

“Oh gosh, twenty-five years, at least,” she said, gently putting the painting back down in its spot. “She quit when I was seven and became a real estate agent. She needed a job that was more consistent as Scott and I got older, but she still taught at a ballet school in the next town over.” Ellie closed her eyes and smiled. “I remember sitting in the front row of her last performance. She was so beautiful, in a white gown. After she was done dancing, I went up to the stage and threw her a rose and I remember thinking how she looked like an angel.”

I could see tears threatening Ellie’s eyes at the memory. I didn’t want to see her cry, especially on her night. “That’s a beautiful memory, Ellie,” I whispered, drawing her closer to me. “No doubt your mother is so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Tom,” she pressed a soft kiss to my jaw. “That really means a lot.”


End file.
